


the golden cord

by chelswritess



Category: The Bone Season - Samantha Shannon
Genre: F/M, M/M, idk how much Warden would freak out so please excuse me, prepare for minor angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 08:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelswritess/pseuds/chelswritess
Summary: Spoilers for The Song Rising, the third book in The Bone Season seriesSet during Paige's capture, we get to see what Warden has been up to and how he feels about Paige being in Nashira's grip (prepare yourself for one angsty immortal)





	the golden cord

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the period of Paige's capture, we see what Warden and the gang have been up to ft angst cause I'm Warden x Paige trash. Also, this is my first TBS fic so please be nice, I haven't really gotten Samantha's style down yet. I would like to thank @evangelineartemiasamos on Tumblr for dragging me into this fandom, it's been quite fun

****The golden cord**** had been silent for five days.

  
Warden paced back and forth on the soft rug of their current safehouse. The Ranthen had many scattered across London but this one had always been his favourite, as far as safehouses went. The dimming firelight of candles that had been placed about the room deepened the shadows on his face and the ones under his eyes. It reminded him of a time best left forgotten. It would do him no good to have his fellow Ranthen see him like this, but Warden knew attempting to mask his anxiety from them would prove fruitless.

  
Something flickered to his left--not flame, but an aura.

  
Warden stopped. And then inclined his head.

  
“Arcturus, I did not realize you would be up so late,” Terebell spoke in Gloss and Warden was thankful. He did not wish to spend additional energy on translation. She set something on the table, but he chose to instead focus on her.

  
“I find the silence pleasant,” he replied.

  
Her usual chartreuse eyes were a bright yellow indicating a recent feed. Warden did not need to glance at a mirror to tell that his own were dim.

  
She gave him a glance. “I suppose it is.”

  
Terebell made her way over to him and placed her finger under his chin. Her grip was gentle, her fingers warm. They belonged to hands Warden once kissed with reverence and admired for their strength. Now they belonged to his sovereign-elect and friend, no more.

  
She tilted his head to the side and back again before staring into his eyes. Her own gaze was disapproving. “You really ought to feed, you’ll be no use to the dreamwalker if you starve yourself.”

  
The mention of Paige quickened his heartbeat. He dropped his eyes from hers and turned his back, electing to stare out their small window.

  
Terebell understood that he cared for her, in a way an amaurotic might care for a treasured pet. She may not like it but it was easier for her to grasp than the truth of what Paige meant to him, and less dangerous.

  
Her voice went low as she asked, “The cord?”

  
Warden shook his head.

  
She made no move to join him, sensing his frustration. Though he could not see her face, he could picture her thoughtful expression.

  
“She’s proven to be quite an exceptional survivalist. If she were dead, Nashira would make sure all of Scion knew, the anchor cannot tolerate a threat to their reign. Or her reign rather.” Softer now. “Alsafi cannot contact us, nor us him. He sent me a final message, he is being watched, but he will relay messages through an ally of his. Nashira must suspect something.”

  
Warden’s jaw clenched. “Is that all?”

  
Terebell went silent for a moment. “I know that this is difficult for you,” she began quietly, “but we need to remain as a united front. Division within our ranks is not something we can afford right now, not with so much at stake. I trust that you understand this.”

“I understand.” His tone was flat. She had been patient for long enough but she was still his superior and disrespect would not be welcomed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Terebell dip her head. She left without another word. When he was sure that she had gone far enough, Warden sank into the bed, fists clenched. He wanted to smash something, to bound into the Archon like a reckless fool and scour the dungeons to find her though he knew it was not possible.

  
Every night, he saw something different. Paige screaming in agony as Nashira carried out whichever torture she pleased, Paige crouched in the corner of some cold, dark cell attempting to free herself, only to have the fierce spirit he loved so much crushed in Nashira’s grip. Paige sick, or broken, or dead.

Last night he’d seen Tom Tower again, but this time it was Paige who bore the poltergeist’s fury. Her cries echoed in his ears and haunted him in his waking hours. His scars ached with the memory of his dream, as did his heart.

  
Worse still was his failure, He had tried to stop her that day in Edinburgh, but even he hadn’t been fast enough. He still remembered how she’d leveled that gun at him, lips trembling. He’d dared her to empty that gun into him. Warden knew she would not have shot, but there was no doubt in his mind that would have hurt less than her next actions. It had been the last day he’d felt the golden cord after he’d used it to signal his warning to her. That connection between them that was now silent.

She had asked him once what the spectors in his mind meant, the regrets he carried with him each day. Warden knew that this failure was one he would remember for the rest of his cursed eternity.

  
He had always known Paige was brave and headstrong. But never had that troubled him until now. When they got her back, when, not if, she was surely in for a scolding. But despite his worry, Warden couldn’t help his pride.

  
She’d acted like a leader at that moment, it had been good to see her fire return after what Vance had done to her father. Warden also reasoned though he sought to respect and support her decisions, it did not mean he had to like them, particularly where her safety was involved.

  
Slowly, his lids began to weigh his eyes closed and this time when Warden fell asleep, the sleep-dealer did not dream.

***

He awoke with fire in his lungs.

  
The pain was fierce and rattled in his teeth. Warden bolted upright against it, scanning the room for the enemy, but he could find none. No spirits stirred and no aura in sight, save for the ones of Terebell and Errai.

  
This was different from Nashira’s poltergeist. Warden could not fathom how he, a being that breathed no oxygen could feel as if it were being choked from him.

  
Something stretched taut in his mind, the feeling bone-deep and familiar. He had only felt it once, that day when Paige had gone into that warehouse and fallen into Vance’s trap as well as under the brutal current of the Thames.

  
His heartbeat stuttered.

  
Warden had not felt the golden cord in only a few days, but it had felt infinitely longer than that. After months of constantly being aware of Paige, to have that stolen from him had been jarring. Relief mingled with dread as he processed the pain. Warden could not deny his joy at the confirmation that she still lived, but he knew that she must be under torture at the moment and that was enough to embitter his relief.

  
He threw on his coat and headed into their meeting room which also served as a space for seances. Terebell and Alsafi conversed together in Gloss, their words halting when they realize he was here.

  
Terebell read his expression easily. “What is it?”

  
Warden clasps his hands behind his back to hide his fingers curling. “It is about Paige. I believe she is alive.”

  
Terebell and Errai share a look.

  
“I expected nothing less of the dreamwalker,” Errai says. “She has a talent for avoiding death.”

  
“Talent or not I suspect Nashira will not allow her life to continue much longer,” Terebell muses. Warden nearly growled at the name. “This is excellent news, however.”

“I assume this means the cord has resumed functioning?” Errai asks.

  
“For now, perhaps,” he replies tightly.

  
“What did you feel?” Terebell queries. Her gaze suggests she already knew the answer. Warden forces himself to respond.

  
“Pain.”

  
“To be expected, of course,” Errai nods. His disinterested manner threatened Warden’s mask.

  
“We will see to inquire about her state. Go, Arcturus. We will call you when news has arrived.” Warden made to leave but Terebell stopped him. “Oh, and Arcturus? Make sure you eat something; you are of no use to anyone in this state.”

He bowed his head in deference and left.

  
***

Dressed in a thick winter coat, gloves, boots, and a low-lying hat, Warden made his way through Seven Dials. He ignored the odd glances he got every now and then but kept his eyes on the SVD officers and more recently, red-clad Punishers that lined the streets. Amaurotics bustled by, shopping for the approaching New Year’s celebration and Warden moved easily among the throng.

It amazed him even still, his freedom to be in the citadel, to do as he pleased. There was still the issue of patrols and Nashira’s minions yes, but it was the freest he had felt in a long time. Today, the thought of his freedom brought a bitter taste to his mouth, remembering that there was one person yet who he cared deeply for who remained a prisoner.  


Nick had given him the location of the safe house in which him and a few members of the Underqueen’s council currently resided in. The rest had returned to the Beneath to resume the job of damage control with news of the Underqueen’s capture and death at Scion’s hands.

  
He did not know why he sought out Dr. Nygard--it wasn’t as if he could divulge the golden cord and how it allowed him to sense Paige and her being very much alive. But still, he felt the urge to reassure him and Paige’s fellow commanders.

  
He knocked using the code they had developed weeks ago. He could sense auras inside and a bloodred one made its way to the door.

  
A slot opened and he was met with eyes as red as the aura that marked him as an oracle. Dr. Nicklas Nygard had not taken Paige’s capture well.

  
The door opened quickly and was shut just as fast. Ognena Maria sat at the table in the centre of the room, lips purple with aster. The roll was held aloft in her middle and pointer finger and she brought it to her mouth once more before blowing out a breath.

  
“Warden, good of you to visit,” she croaked.

  
“It is good to see you as well,” he replied. Nick stared at him. “May I speak to you, Dr. Nygard?”

  
Nick led him into another room and gestured to the couch. Warden sat and removed his hat while Nick remained standing.

“Talk.”

He was not one to defer to pleasantries at least. “I believe Paige is alive.”

  
Nick’s head snaps up, his eyes brightening with hope before suspicion replaces it. “How?” he breathes.

  
Warden clasps his hands together. “I cannot say,” he begins carefully, “but I hope you can trust me with this assurance, though I will warn you, she does suffer.”

  
Nick swallows thickly as a storm of emotions dance upon his features. He looks down at his hands and then back at Warden. “Look, I know you’re not one to play games so you know I can’t accept that answer, no matter how much I want to.”

  
“I would not insult your intelligence, Dr. Nygard.” Warden pauses, trying to reach the words to phrase it best. “I also know that this may sound unbelievable to you, but I have a very strong... intuition.” He says the word with dissatisfaction, lips pressing into a thin line.

  
“Bullshit,” Nick throws up his hands. “I’m gonna need more than_ intuition_.”

“Maybe it’s a freaky Reph thing,” Maria drawls from the doorway. She crushes the roll against the pale-yellow wall and Warden watches as it crumbles to the floor. “Unless you’ve got some contact you’re not willing to expose?”

  
“Our current contact has cut off communication for now, but a supposed ally of his is expected to reach out to us soon,” Warden offers. At least this was a question he could provide some answer to.

  
“You’ll let us know as soon as possible I hope?” Maria asks quietly. Paige had more friends than she believed evidenced by Maria’s excessive smoking and distraught gaze. Warden nods, unsure of how to comfort her.

  
“I’m going out for a walk, I can’t stand this shithole for a minute longer,” she pauses and then chuckles. “I guess it’s better than the actual shithole the rest of the syndicate is stuffed into.” She strides across the room and grabs her coat before heading out.

  
Warden’s eyes follow her as she goes only to be interrupted by Nick clearing his throat. “So, you gonna be honest now?”

“I have not spoken untruthfully yet.”

  
He snorts. “Yeah, okay.” Nick walks over to a built-in cabinet and pulls out a bottle and two glasses. “From what Paige told me, you Rephs really enjoy your wine.”

  
Warden observes him, his expression betraying nothing. “What did she tell you?”

  
“Just that wine helped dull the pain-in-your-ass personalities you all have,” he remarks while pouring out two generous glasses. Nick slides one to Warden which he catches easily.

  
“That sounds very much like her.”

  
“It does,” Nick replies absently. He takes three gulps before wiping his mouth and scrunching up his face. “Shit, I really forgot how much that burns.”

  
In contrast, Warden sips at his drink politely. Despite the absence of amaranth, he still enjoyed the feel of the wine sliding down his throat. It warmed his insides and eased the pain a fraction, inside and out.

They sat in silence for a while, their drinks slowly ebbing. Nick broke the silence first.

  
“I thought you cared for her, I mean, I know she does for you, but I honestly don’t get it.”

  
Warden met his perplexed gaze but did not say anything.

  
“You look,” Nick uses a hand to run through his already disheveled hair and another to gesture at Warden, “perfectly fine. Do you even care? Paige said that you lot didn’t feel like we do but when you talk about her you--” his voice went hoarse “you sound like she’s on some vacation and not at the mercy of Nashira or torture.” His throat bobs as he struggles to admit the daunting possibility. “Or dead.”

  
Warden’s grip tightened around his glass. “I can assure you,” he says softly, “I do care very much.”

  
Nick glances at him. “So why the mask?” His stare suggested that he knew the answer, he only wanted some show of humanity from him. Something his mind might be able to understand. Warden could tell that he still eluded the doctor, though not purposefully.

  
“Paige and I tried to remain careful in the presence of the Ranthen.” Warden studied the bottle that stood upright on the coffee table between them. He felt somewhat comfortable revealing this to Nick, seeing as he already had some inkling or knowledge of the true nature of the relationship that he and Paige had.

  
“In the colony, I had a slave, Michael. He was a gift from my fiancée at the time.” His mouth filled with a bitter taste at the word and it had nothing to do with the wine. “I took pity on him and attempted to repair some of the damage he had suffered to his dreamscape with the resources I had. It was an arduous process but beneficial.” Warden paused, remembering what Paige had told him of Michael’s fate and how he had disappeared that day on the train. He was likely dead and while he had known it was a risk, it did not make it hurt any less. “Slowly, we came to trust one another, and he became my spy of sorts.”

  
Nick taps his foot impatiently. “I know that. Paige told me.”

  
Warden leans forward. “Many referred to him as my human pet. It made it easier for the Rephaim to understand why I treated him kindlier than I was expected to.” He waits for Nick to connect the dots. It does not take long.

  
His eyes widen, mouth dropping open. “You--they--” he stutters. His expression drips with disgust. “They think Paige is your pet?” the words came out as a growl.

  
“Yes,” Warden says simply. It only infuriated Nick.

  
“You can’t even tell them otherwise,” Nick spat, though Warden could understand that the anger was not directed at him. Rather it was said with understanding.

  
Warden looks at his hands. “No, I cannot.”

  
Nick slumps against his seat, the fight drained out of him. Warden could not help but examine him. His lover, Zeke, had fled with his sister to Jaxon. It was not his place to anything in regards to his hardship, but he could imagine Nick was experiencing much more emotional turmoil than he let on.

Instead of commenting on this, Warden took the opportunity to extend an olive branch.

  
“It is an agony having to pretend I do not care for Paige the way I truly do.” This catches his attention. “I…” Warden trails off. His inability to speak further shocked him, it was not something that happened often.  


“You what?” Nick prompts.

“I cannot stop thinking about that night,” he relents at last.

Even Nick is taken aback. He shakes his head, his hair falling forwards. “Me neither,” he says quietly.

Warden waited for him to go on.

“I keep--” he lets out a frustrated huff. “I keep replaying it over and over. I tried going after her you know, but she was too damn fast. I trained her well, my fault on that one. I just can’t stop thinking what If I’d been faster, what if I never let her get near that bridge at all_, what if_.”

He pushes back his fallen strands in a sharp gesture before reaching to pour himself another glass.

“I would not advise it,” Warden warns.

“Yeah, well, too bad I’m not in the mood for advice.”

Warden did not argue further.

“When you hear anything, you know where to find me.” Warden supposed that was his cue to leave. He stood and put on back his hat, angling it over his face.

“Have a good rest of your day, Nick.”

“I don’t know if 'good' sums it up,” Nick sighs. “but it’ll be a day alright.”

***

By the time Warden had arrived back at the safe house, the sun had begun its descent. Terebell had been right, he was no use to Paige or anyone if he was not strong. He had spent the rest of his afternoon hunting down voyants that appeared to have no moral consciences and only then took a little bit from each. The effort was time-consuming, but Paige had long since forbidden them from feeding on any members of the syndicate and he still intended to abide by her rule.

Soft candlelight greeted him. The sight was reminiscent of Magdalen and Warden could not have despised it more.

“Arcturus,” Terebell nods from her position near the door. She scrutinizes his features once more. “You have fed.”

“Indeed,” she says. A pause. “We have received word.”

Warden tempers his surprise and fear. It took nearly all his strength to keep his expression blank. “So quickly?”

“Yes, though it is strange,” she puzzles. “Nevertheless, the language of flowers was used and I have no reason to believe that this is a false message.”

“Should we not wait for Errai?”

“He will understand that this is urgent.”

Terebell hands him the letter, having already read it. Warden takes it gently, though his jaw betrayed his tension.

He reads it once. Then again. And again. Warden thought Paige dying might be the most painful thing he had to fear, and yet, something else had happened.

“It is an interesting tactic, Nashira believes it has worked,” Terebell mused. “By believing you have given yourself in exchange for her, it appears to have decimated her spirit. She attacked a guard, XX-1 after he relayed this news to her.”

Carl, then. He and Paige never did have a particularly close relationship.

She eyes him. “Arcturus? What I cannot understand is why this would affect her so greatly, or why Nashira would think this a good strategy.” Warden knew she had her private suspicions. This was her way of allowing him to confess his betrayal of the Ranthen.

“Perhaps Nashira thought that with Paige believing I am in the Archon, she would think her closest link to our alliance gone.”

Terebell nodded, seemingly placated, for now. “Perhaps.” Though she agreed with him, she still harbored her suspicion. But for her to believe Nashira over him would be a betrayal of trust.

“Try reaching out with the cord once more and see what you can glean,” she instructs. She reaches out a gloved hand for the note and Warden reluctantly hands it over. It felt as if he were relinquishing the last bit of Paige he had left.

He made no sound as he walked into his room. He resisted the urge to shatter something, and so he could only clench his fists and sit on his bed. Not so long ago, Paige had called him a coward, and in this moment, he certainly felt like one.

Tentatively, he reached out for the cord. It appeared as a long winding ribbon made of sunlight and Warden wished for the thousandth time that it could show him where she was. He let out a soft exhale before reaching out.

_Paige?_

Silence.

He tugged on it to no avail. Something within him broke as he hunched forward, placing his head into his hands. Did she truly believe he has given himself up for her? More importantly, would it be there right course of action if he had? Was he coward for being so unwilling to place himself in Nashira’s cruel hands once more?

He missed her laugh, a sound that was too rare these days. He missed her cleverness and bravery, even her headstrong tendencies that put her in situations far too dangerous for his liking. Warden never did imagine himself becoming enamoured with a human but here he was, a moping fool. He resolved to get up, to do something. His fear could be set aside. Right now, he had to focus on getting her back.

_Paige? _

_We are coming for you, I promise._


End file.
